It’s supposed to be emotional…
Due out in a few weeks…
She jerked and backed away, unable to listen, unable to watch. “I don’t want to see this—this is bullshit. Gavin wouldn’t have fucked around on me.”
“You’re right.” Jacob nodded. “He didn’t. Not that night—not since. He’s kept himself faithful, hoping you’d come back. But this isn’t about what happened. It’s about what could have happened.”
He nodded toward the street. “Watch.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur of screams and fury. Trish had gone to kiss Gavin again. He had been pushing her away, that much Celine could see…now.
But that night? The woman she had been? Apparently all Celine had seen was another woman in her husband’s arms.
And by the time the police arrived, Trish was bleeding from her nose, clutching her belly, and Gavin was holding Celine away from the woman, even though the look in his eyes clearly said he didn’t want to be touching her.
“Had you taken that other road, he would have moved out of the house two days later, filed for divorce within the week.”
“No.” Celine turned away and stalked down the street away from the house where she had lived with her husband. Away from whatever trick Jacob had conjured up to make her accept this bullshit life.
“You’re not telling me that he divorced me for her,” she bit off as Jacob caught up with her.
“No. He divorced you because the two of you weren’t happy together. You hadn’t been for a long time. Trish only aggravated the matter.”
“There are no buts. You weren’t happy. The two of you barely managed to co-exist together. You wanted children. He did not. He wanted to pursue a writing career and you were terrified it wouldn’t happen. You had different dreams for your lives and somewhere along the way, you fell out of love.”
“Wrong!” She spun around and glared at Jacob. “I still love him.”
“There is love, and there is in love. Have you forgotten the difference?”
She sneered at him. “What in the hell do you know about love, you damned iceberg?”
She never even saw him move. One moment, he was three feet away. And then he was only inches away, his long body, so lean and warm, caging hers in against something cool and metal—a car? Truck? She didn’t know, didn’t care. One hand rested by her shoulder. The other cupped her chin.
“More than you would think, sweet. Far more than you would think.” Then his mouth was on hers.
She thought he was an iceberg.
Her mouth was still under his, for the briefest moment. He knew it wouldn’t last long, and he intended to make the most of it. She wanted to wither away and die, did she?
Perhaps she needed to see just how much life she still had inside her.
Oh, but she was sweet…he’d known she would be. Her mouth was soft, even though she was still frozen with shock. Soft, and she tasted like soft, warm woman, cherries and Coke… She lived on Cherry Coke, it seemed. He could live on the taste of it on her, he supposed.
Stroking his tongue along the curve of her lower lip, he teased her lips apart, delving inside the second he had an opportunity. He didn’t believe in wasting those.
Her fingers curled into the front of his coat and over the roaring of blood in his ears, he heard the soft, broken sound of her breath…and even sweeter, the erratic beat of her heart. Her body wilted against his—he felt the push of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the long lines of the body she treated so carelessly. There was wanting in her body, needing…she wanted, she needed. Him…she wanted him.
For that moment—he felt it.
And then he felt her fist.
He took that first punch, staggering back a little. Damn, she was strong. When she would have hit him again, he caught her hand, stopping the blow before it landed. “Don’t,” he warned quietly.
When he saw the tears in her eyes, though, he wished he’d just let her hit him. Pound him bloody if it made her feel better.
“Why did you do that?” She jerked her hand.
Jacob let go, his heart aching.
Her voice was shaking. Fuck, what had he done?
“Why did you do that?”
“You’re not dead, Celine. You need to quit wishing it on yourself.”
But he didn’t think she even heard him. Celine, with a hand that trembled, touched her mouth. “You kissed me. Damn it, why did you kiss me?”
There was no chance for him to answer, because more yelling erupted from the house. Celine’s voice, angry and hurt. And then there was Gavin’s voice, tired…just tired. There was no anger there. No anger, no hurt.
“He stopped loving you, the fool,” Jacob said quietly as she turned toward the sound of the voices. “He gave up on your marriage—a long time ago, but you mourn for that life. A life where he didn’t love you as you deserved.”
“If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t still be grieving for me.”
“Many things inspire grief,” Jacob said, turning to look back at her. The pain in her dark eyes all but put him on his knees. He’d do anything to take it from her. Anything. “Love. Anger.”
He moved to stand next to her and because he couldn’t stop himself, he touched his hand to the dark strands of her hair. “Guilt.”
“He cared for you, yes. But that isn’t love. It is guilt that makes him cling to your memory, Celine. If you would just let yourself look, you would see it.”
Other authors who are supposed to get all emotional today…
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth